I Give (So You Don't Take)
by bookstvnerdlove
Summary: Beth returns, thoughts from her perspective. (Companion to "Tied to You".)


**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

_A/N: This is a continuation/companion piece to "Tied to You". As a warning: it makes mention of rape/dubious consent. It does not go into any detail. But if even the word or implications bother you, please don't continue. I will understand._

* * *

When night falls and the camp is so quiet that she can hear deep breathing, rhythmic in sleep, and murmurs between lovers or friends, Beth does not feel calm and relaxed. Her insides are full of agitation and nausea as she closes her eyes and can hear with extreme clarity the way Daryl screamed her name as the car sped away. Bodies with arms and legs and nameless contorted faces separating them. At the time, she knew that she should have been scared but all she could muster up was anger. Anger at the world, at their circumstances, at the people who felt like they could just _take_.

(In the months that she was gone, all she could think about was the way his hand felt in hers, fingers interlaced. Or the way that he looked at her across the table, saying that something that came from inside of her _changed_ him. Every time after that, when she started to feel that helplessness, she replaced it with _fury_.)

She used to spend all of her time observing the ebb and flow in the connection that exist between people. She remembers how it became clear that some people tend to take power while others give, and still others share. She always understood that a dangerous edge of power almost destroyed her father, and she knows that a stronger man emerged afterwards. She also knows that sometimes it was hard for him and she saw that look in his eyes when she was a kid, the one that said, _this is too much _and _sometimes I just need it._ Even though her mother thought she was too young, it was too long ago, and that she would not understand what those looks meant. She noticed and wrote them down and learned to avoid what led to them over time.

(She remembers the summer parties at her friends' houses, glorious barbecues with the parents sitting in their chairs drinking and eating while the kids ran around, screaming, throwing water balloons at each other, and trying to make packages of Pop Rocks explode. She also remembers how, at some point during the night the beer bottles would pile up and her friend's parents would get louder and louder, laughing until all the kids would huddle around and try to scheme ways to steal the last beer because surely it wouldn't be missed. And she also remembers how her dad would drag her home, long before she was ready to go, because it was _time_ for him.)

This moment between sunset and dark was always Beth's favorite part of the day. The dusky light gave the world and eerie glow, with the stars and the moon were out, but not illuminating the sky. It was the time of day that she could run wild and catch fireflies with the jars that her father gave her. She remembers when the group first arrived at her father's farm, before she even knew the truth of it all just that things were _different_, and how it felt like those long ago summer days when there were people and food and shared stories.

She knows that, now, after everything that happened with the prison and Terminus, and her finding the group again, that when Maggie looks at her all pleading and apology. It is as though she has been fitted into some sad-shaped box labeled _victim_ that once within, cannot be escaped. She does not want her capture and escape to define her forever. She sees how Maggie and Glenn (and Rick and Michonne) look at her, watching carefully for signs that she _abused _or even _raped_. She can just picture Maggie's face if she ever actually said that word aloud, a combination of horror and concern in a contortion she wishes desperately to avoid. Inside her mind, there is no way to pretty up those worries with nice words vague implications.

(She remembers how it felt, back when they were still at the farmhouse, and the weight of everything pressed down on her chest and kept her from moving. She knows that everybody thinks, because of that moment, that she will never be quite strong enough to survive in the world because of that. She used to like that everybody underestimated her before. She felt like a secret, all strong and capable, like David versus Goliath. Now…now she wants them to see that the too has changed; grown and hardened in the ways that she needed to. She wants the others to see that, yes, she still maintains hope but it is not the guileless, naïve hope of a young girl. Instead, it is the hope that comes with the knowledge that humanity should not be _erased_ just because the rules changed.)

It happens when they are on the run from a new horde of walkers. The words just _fall_ out of her mouth as if she is possessed.

"I chose to play nice," she shouts, his hand circling her wrist and the momentum of his movement pulling her body along in the direction the rest of the group has fled towards, trying to make sure that he does not lose her again.

He stops so abruptly that they stumble into one another, before slowly backing away to a safer distance. She can see the lines around his eyes, shifting from confusion into understanding so she continues.

"I heard them talking in the car. I pretended to faint, but I could hear what they were saying."

They are both breathing heavily and wary of the distance slowly forming between them and the others. They have no time to really _talk_ and it is so ridiculous that the words she has been trying to say for _days_ since he held her hand and agreed to protect her deepest thoughts have come right at this exact moment.

"I couldn't let them _take. _So I _offered _it to them, instead," her words heavy in the air between them, somehow finding just the right edge so that he will understand _exactly_ what she's trying to say.

They break eye contact and even though she completely understands the urgency of movement, she hopes that it does not mean something worse. But later, when he comes to find her all he does is shrug and say, "You survived."

She just grins, because he _gets_ it. He gets _her._ "Yeah, I did."

(The next day when they're alone again, she grabs the edges of his vest and slides her body close to his, spending a moment nestled in his arms before her lips trace a faint pattern across his neck, until they hover at his and she whispers. _Kiss me, Daryl_.)


End file.
